


Circumstantial Considerations

by radiations



Category: Justice League, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, sort of batflash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiations/pseuds/radiations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally’s still standing there, so still that Bruce can’t help but wonder if the boy was still breathing, his heart still beating. He doesn’t want to think about the inevitable way it one day wouldn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circumstantial Considerations

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this completely via text message to a friend one day while at church and decided that I liked it too much to leave it alone. BatFlash is definitely my new obsession.

Diane asks Bruce first, when they’re lying in bed together and her eyes are dark and filled with concern. He thinks about her eyes and how blue they are. He wonders if she knows how beautiful she is. Probably, though, if anyone knew how beautiful they were, it would be Diane. And that’s partly why he loves her so much. 

He realizes he hasn’t answered her question, that soft, “Are you alright?” 

Her hand now brushes his cheek, lightly. He wonders how he let it get this far, wonders how he let down his walls this much—wonders when he thought it would be okay for them to cross important lines and move beyond simply teammates. He supposes they still are, though, to a certain extent. 

Bruce brings his hand up to take hers, clasping it gently and pressing it against his cheek. 

He tilts his face to brush his lips against her palm before offering a fraction of a nod. “Of course,” he replies, before leaning in to kiss her and when she kisses him back, Bruce forgets that it was a lie. 

\--- 

J’onn asks him second, in that voice of his that makes Bruce think the Martian already got inside his head. When he glances up, the Martian is simply gazing at him, expression as open as it could be. Head tilted, J’onn watched as Bruce worked to keep his expression in check. 

He doesn’t have to think about J’onn getting in his head, not really, not when Martians have honour in a way that humans never could. And he knows that J’onn probably wants less likely to be in his head than anything else. There’s a couple more moments of silence between them and Bruce is glad when J’onn finally looks away. 

He looks back at the computer screen, and when he hears “You’re not alone,” he’s not sure if J’onn said those words aloud or was trying to imprint them into his brain.

He provides no response and thinks about how he needs to work on improving his composure. 

\--- 

Stewart asks him and Bruce actually gets kind of annoyed. He rolls his eyes and then fixes the other man with a look. 

Stewart goes on to ask if it’s about Diane and Bruce would probably groan if he had it in him to express himself like that. Instead, he says nothing and Stewart talks about Shayera and how it’s okay for relationships to have fights; how it’s healthy. The other man grins a little, like he knows something Bruce doesn’t, which is quite unlikely, and then shrugs. “If you ever wanna talk about it, I’m here, man,” he ends up saying and Bruce wants to tell Stewart there’s nothing to talk about. He isn’t any different than usual, he’s sure of it. 

Stewart leaves and Bruce is contemplative. Also, he thinks that he might punch the next person who asks about his wellbeing in the face. Which might be a bad way to go about things, but frankly, he doesn’t care.

\--- 

Shayera gives Bruce this look and Bruce thinks it’s something like understanding, comprehension. He wonders what she understands and kind of wishes that he did too.

She looks over in another direction and Bruce doesn’t follow her gaze. Instead, he looks over at Diane and thinks again about how beautiful she is. 

When he looks back at Shayera, she’s staring at him again, as though watching him watch Diane. He sees Stewart talking to her from the corner of his eye and wonders what the other man is saying. 

He wonders if they’re all talking about him behind his back, wonders if he’s actually been brooding more than usual. Wonders if he’s becoming more paranoid than usual. 

Bruce feels another gaze on him and decides that it’s time for him to leave the room. 

Diane waves him over and he shakes his head, offering half of a smile before exiting the room and feeling a pair of emerald eyes watch him the entire way out. 

\--- 

It’s Clark, it’s always Clark, that finally makes Bruce realize that he is having difficulty. That there’s something on his mind, that he’s struggling.

They’re alone when Clark looks at him, gaze soft, expression concerned. There’s a pause and Bruce wants to simultaneously leave and start yelling. He does neither, and Clark asks, “So, what is it?” because there’s something and they both know.

Bruce thinks Clark would understand. He feels a rush of something, and thinks that Clark is strong. In ways he’d never be, and not just because of superpowers and the alien thing. He wonders how Clark does it, how Clark probably struggles just to get through the day. He thinks Clark knows, just knows, in ways Bruce still doesn’t know. 

Clark drops a hand on his shoulder, squeezes lightly, encouragingly, and Bruce wishes he was the hugging type. But that was always Clark, and he thinks that Clark would hug him now if he asked. Thinks he needs a hug. 

Bruce is sure he’s getting weaker. He can’t help but wonder when he got so reliant on those around him. He clenches and unclenches his hands, trying to figure out how to put into words all the things that are happening that he needs to prevent. Doesn’t know how to prevent. He thinks Clark probably thinks about it all the time too. Lex is in politics, has a presidential campaign. Which is hilarious, like he’s not a super-villain or anything. 

And it’s like that other dimension wasn’t an alternate dimension. Like it was the future. He wants to tell Clark that the only solution is for him to laser eye Luthor and get it done with. Then he wouldn’t have to think so hard. He probably would anyways.

“We need to avoid it,” he finally says, quietly. Clark hears him and he can tell by the way Clark tenses, hand still on his shoulder. He wonders if Clark would still have heard him without super-hearing. Thinks, yeah, probably. 

“We are. We will.” Clark provides, softly. Of course Clark knows what he’s talking about. It’s probably all he’d been thinking about since. Since. Since. 

“Will we?” Bruce asks, but it’s not a question, not really. He thinks Clark wants to answer anyway, reassure him. 

Clark doesn’t, though. Clark says nothing and they stand in silence for a long time after that. Bruce wonders if everything is going to happen the way it did no matter what he does, and figures it will. 

He’s running out of preventive measures and solutions and what to expect, and it’s probably driving him a little crazier than he already was. 

\--- 

“What’s wrong, Bats? You’re creeping me out,” Wally interrupts Bruce’s thoughts rudely, cutting through…probably really important ideas or whatever. And for a ridiculous, crazy second, Bruce wants to tell him. Thinks it would shut the speedster up, probably. 

“Nothing,” he replies instead, almost automatically. Eyes fixed on the screen, ignoring the breeze informing him of the younger male zipping up next to him. 

“You’re lying,” the other points out and Bruce actually rolls his eyes. 

“My parents died in front of my eyes when I was a child,” he hears himself say, really dryly. It was a joke, and he’s glad when the boy laughs. Then there’s a pause, and he can feel the speedster staring him down, expression probably turning solemn.

“It’s more than that. You're being weird. And you won’t look at me.” 

Bruce wants to say that he never looks at Wally to begin with, to stop being ridiculous. But it would be a lie, so he says nothing, gets up. 

“You can’t walk away from me,” Wally says, almost whining. “You’re too slow.” 

He does anyway, stepping away from the speedster and starting towards the elevator. 

Wally’s quick, of course he is, to follow behind him and then falling into step next to him. 

“C’mon, Bats. You can’t get away that easily. It’s been weeks now and everyone else is worried too.” Wally starts counting off his fingers, still chattering away. “And y’know everyone thinks giving you space is what you need but that’s not it. Or you’d be over it by now. But you’re not, you’re just avoiding us and sulking, or whatever, and…” Wally trails off, as though just realizing something. 

Bruce hopes Wally doesn’t say it, hopes Wally isn’t that perceptive. Bruce likes to think that the speedster isn’t as smart as he actually probably is, has the potential to be. 

“That’s not right, though,” Wally says, slowly, and Bruce thinks he should leave, get away before that sentence gets completed. He doesn’t have it in himself to, though, and waits. Wally stops in his tracks and Bruce comes to a halt in front of the lift, fixing his eyes on the switch. 

He doesn’t press it though, realizing he owes the kid that much. 

“Just me. You’ve just been avoiding me. And you still are.” Bruce is glad they’re the only two on the floor because Wally’s voice is gradually raising. “And you still won’t look at me!”

Bruce is pretty sure that Wally is working himself up quite a bit, rather unnecessarily. He wants to say that he’s not avoiding anyone, that the kid was being paranoid, getting ahead of himself, the way he always did. Heh, getting ahead of himself—and who said he didn’t have a sense of humour?

Bruce is also aware that silences tend to stretch out like years for Wally. That the speedster hated them. That silences were filled with Wally thinking, overthinking, jumping to conclusions, making assumptions. Probably going through every single possible thing he’d done wrong within the past three months. 

“Is this because of that time with Diana…?” Wally starts, confused and slow and Bruce doesn’t even have the energy to try to recall whatever situation the speedster was bringing forth. 

“No,” he provides, curtly, and decides he should start walking again. That standing here, next to someone akin to a ticking bomb, would provide no solution. 

“But, it’s me, right? I did something, huh? Did I say something stupid? Okay, stupid question, probably did, right?” Wally went on, more or less talking to himself and Bruce wants to shut him up. Wants to say nothing. Wants to say everything. 

But Bruce is pretty sure there isn’t anything to say. He parts his lips, inhaling. Wanting to say all the nothing there was to say. Wally shuts up immediately and Bruce feels those eyes, pinned to him. 

“You should quit,” he hears himself say, and immediately wonders if this is how Wally feels, when his mouth is too quick for his brain to catch up. But as the words leave his lips, he realizes that’s the answer. 

That was the solution, the best preventive measure in order to avoid everything he wanted to avoid. The Flash had to go, while still alive. Live the rest of his life, live.

He’s surprised he didn’t think of it sooner. It was so simple.

Wally says nothing and Bruce finally has it in him to turn around, to look, to meet Wally’s green eyes. The speedster was staring at him, confusion plastered across his face, mingled with some kind of distress.

Bruce doesn’t want to say it again. Doesn’t think he can. Thinks he should have told Clark to do this. Doesn’t want to associate the pain in those green eyes to the words leaving his mouth.

He says it again anyway. 

“You should quit the Justice League.” He pauses and watches as the blood leaves the younger male’s face. “Leave. Now.”

Wally says nothing and Bruce thinks Clark would have been best suited for these words. Clark would be able to go on about futures and possibilities. Clark had a way with words that Bruce never managed to grace himself with. 

Clark loved, and when Clark loved, it was in a way where the other knew. When Bruce did anything like that, like love, it always came out the opposite. 

Wally’s still standing there, so still that Bruce can’t help but wonder if the boy was still breathing, his heart still beating. He doesn’t want to think about the inevitable way it one day wouldn’t. Bruce doesn’t want to think about Lex shooting out Wally’s brains, doesn’t want to think about everything that was of the speedster coming to a stop.

He doesn’t want to repeat himself either and turns around, tears his gaze away, walks to the control to the lift and presses it. 

“Wait, what, no!” and there’s a hand on his arm, jerking him around so quickly that Bruce is surprised he isn’t dizzy. “You can’t just walk away from me after saying—hey!” Bruce pulls away from the others grasp, thoroughly irritated.

“You wanted to know what was wrong. You. That’s it.” And he’s being unnecessarily harsh. He thinks if he’s said something earlier, to someone else, this would all be composed, rehearsed. But Bruce has to clench his fists now because he’s pretty sure all of his composure is breaking. 

Maybe from exhilaration at finally finding an answer. Maybe from downright horror at the emotional damage he was probably inflicting on the kid. Maybe from the underlying fear that this wouldn’t solve anything. 

“What’d I do?” Wally asks in a kind of strangled voice, almost choking, and Bruce doesn’t think he can keep this up.

“It’s not what you did. It’s what you’re going to do.” 

And that’s all the answer Wally needs, all the answer Bruce needs to give. He can almost hear the click of all the pieces falling into place in the speedsters mind, and feels a sense of relief. He thinks, that’s it. It’s over. It can be done with now.

Instead, when Wally speaks, it’s incredulous instead of understanding, accepting. “You’re sulking around because I died in another dimension and the lot of you went crazy?”

Put like that, Bruce kind of wishes he’d said nothing. Played the “my parents are dead” card. But now Wally’s looking at him like wings have sprouted from Bruce’s back and Bruce wants desperately to retire to his cave. 

But Wally’s in his face, peering at him like Bruce wasn’t someone very obsessed with personal space. 

“That’s it? That’s really it? You’re afraid I’m randomly going to die?”

Not randomly, Bruce wants to argue, wants to protest that this isn’t something to be taken lightly. And he wonders how Wally can go so quickly from looking like he was about to burst into tears to bursting into laughter. 

And Bruce watches, bristling, as Wally doubles over, laughter hiccupping from his lips almost uncontrollably. This isn’t a laughing matter and he wants to say exactly that, except he has this feeling Wally would probably just laugh harder. 

The laughter, giggles really, dies down slowly and Wally’s hiccupping instead, eyes alight with unshed tears. Great. Fantastic. He was glad all this could be taken as a joke.

Fantastic. 

Bruce is sure that it’s time for him to take his leave. Probably never say anything ever again, but Wally’s grinning at him like he’s never seen Bruce before. 

“You really do care,” Wally says, and it could be patronizing. It isn’t though, because Wally’s voice is soft, touched, and Bruce is angry because that wasn’t the point of all this. 

“I’m serious, you should leave. Quit. Get out while you can,” Bruce is using that voice, that tone of voice he uses when he’s trying to explain something to someone really stupid, aka the voice he always uses, and Wally doesn’t look deterred. 

“I’m not going anywhere. And, I can take care of myself,” Wally says, as though that was it, end of discussion. “And don’t be stupid, Bats. None of you are gonna let me die, anyway.” 

Wally grins at Bruce, brightly and in a way that makes Bruce want to blink. 

And for the first time in weeks, Bruce believes that. Believes the speedster. Believes that he might actually be able to do something. That everything wouldn’t end up the way he was having nightmares about it all ending up.

So he nods, and Wally just grins and disappears with a breeze. Bruce stands there for a bit and wishes, really wishes, that he believed in himself as much as the other kid did. He thinks, maybe, they’d all have a chance if he did. 

And then, he realizes that he has to.


End file.
